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The salt-laden breeze whips through Momo's hair as she stands at the edge of the water, arms spread wide, drinking in the vast expanse of the ocean before her. Nayeon watches her, perch on a weathered piece of driftwood, her fingers absently tracing patterns in the sand. There's something achingly familiar about the scene – something that makes her heart clench in a way she thought she'd forgotten.
Three years can change so many things, yet somehow, watching Momo twirl with childlike abandon makes it feel like no time has passed at all. The afternoon sun catches on Momo's profile, highlighting the curve of her smile, and Nayeon has to remind herself to breathe.
"The water's perfect!" Momo calls out, her voice carried by the wind. "Come on, Nabongs, don't just sit there!"
The old nickname slides between Nayeon's ribs like a knife, sweet and sharp all at once. She forces a laugh, shaking her head. "You know I didn't bring extra clothes. Besides, someone has to stay dry to drive us back."
Momo pouts – that same pout that used to make Nayeon's resolve crumble like a sandcastle at high tide. "Since when did you become so responsible?"
*Since I married your sister*, Nayeon thinks but doesn't say. Instead, she pulls her knees to her chest and watches as Momo chases the waves, her laughter echoing across the empty beach. It would be so easy to pretend, just for a moment, that they were still those two girls from years ago, when everything was simpler and their hearts weren't wrapped in careful strings of obligation and choice.
The sun begins its descent, painting the sky in watercolor hues of pink and gold. Momo finally tires of her dance with the ocean and makes her way back, dropping onto the sand beside Nayeon. There's a comfortable silence between them, weighted with all the words they've never said.
"I missed this," Momo says quietly, her eyes fixed on the horizon. "I missed you."
Nayeon's fingers dig into the sand, anchoring herself. "We missed you too," she replies, carefully plural, carefully present. "Mina's been so excited about your visit."
Momo hums, a soft sound that could mean anything or nothing. A breeze carries the scent of her shampoo – still the same after all this time – and Nayeon closes her eyes against the rush of memories it brings: late-night drives, shared umbrellas, stolen glances, and moments that felt infinite until they weren't.
"We should head back," Nayeon says finally, standing and brushing sand from her clothes. "Mina will be waiting."
Momo nods, but doesn't move immediately. She stays there, letting the last rays of sunlight wash over her face, and Nayeon allows herself one final look – one last moment to acknowledge the quiet ache in her chest, the bittersweet taste of what-ifs that lingers on her tongue.
"Ready?" she asks, extending her hand to help Momo up.
Their fingers touch, brief and electric, and Nayeon sees it reflected in Momo's eyes – that same spark, that same unspoken understanding. Then Momo is on her feet, already walking toward the car, and Nayeon follows, each step taking her back to the life she chose, to the love she built, to the sister who waited.
The ocean waves continue the endless dance behind them, keeper of secrets that will remain forever buried in the sand.
The drive starts quietly, but somehow – maybe it's the lingering salt air or the freedom of the open road – they find themselves slipping into old habits. Momo fiddles with the radio, switching stations mid-song just like she used to, earning an exasperated groan from Nayeon.
"Some things never change," Nayeon laughs, swatting Momo's hand away from the controls. "You're still the worst DJ ever."
"Hey! I have excellent taste," Momo protests, already reaching for the dial again. "Remember that road trip playlist I made? The one that had you dancing so hard you almost crashed the car?"
"That was ONE time!" Nayeon's indignant squeak fills the car, and suddenly they're both laughing, the years between them melting away like ice cream on a summer day.
Momo starts humming their old favorite song, and Nayeon joins in without thinking. Their voices blend together, muscle memory from countless karaoke nights and late drives home. In this moment, everything feels possible again, dangerous and sweet, like standing on the edge of something vast.
Then the car's speakers crackle with an incoming message, Siri's mechanical voice cutting through their harmony: "Message from Minari: Dinner's ready my big squishy baby, tell Momo I can't wait to see her! I cooked her favorite ♥"
The silence that follows is deafening. Momo's humming stops mid-note, and Nayeon's fingers tighten imperceptibly on the steering wheel. Reality crashes back like a wave, washing away the temporary magic of their shared nostalgia.
"She still makes the best kimchi jjigae, right?" Momo says finally, her voice carefully light, though her eyes remain fixed on the passing scenery outside her window.
"Yeah," Nayeon responds softly, "she does."
The rest of the drive passes in quiet contemplation, the ghost of their laughter still echoing in the spaces between what is and what could have been.
The warmth of Mina and Nayeon's home wraps around them as they enter, the aroma of kimchi jjigae filling the air. Mina's face lights up at the sight of her sister, immediately pulling Momo into a tight embrace.
"Finally! I was starting to think Nayeon kidnapped you," Mina teases, her eyes twinkling.
"As if she could," Momo laughs, squeezing her sister back. "Though she did try to drown me at the beach."
"I did not!" Nayeon protests, already moving to set the table. "Your sister was the one dancing with the waves like a madwoman."
The dinner starts light, filled with casual updates about Momo's latest photoshoot in Milan, Mina and Nayeon's expanding cafe business, and shared memories that make them all laugh. But underneath, currents of unspoken words swirl like leaves in autumn.
"Tell me again," Momo says, cradling her wine glass, "how you two got together. I missed so much while I was away."
Nayeon's chopsticks freeze midway to her mouth, but Mina's eyes light up. She reaches for Nayeon's free hand naturally, their fingers intertwining on the table.
"Well, you remember how broken she was after that mysterious breakup," Mina starts, and Nayeon feels Momo's gaze like a physical weight. "Plus losing her best friend at the same time – you," Mina nudges Momo playfully. "She practically lived at the cafe. I think she single-handedly kept us in business that first month."
"I did not," Nayeon protests weakly, but Mina squeezes her hand.
"She'd sit in that corner booth for hours, pretending to work on her laptop but really just staring into space," Mina continues. "And then one day, I just... started sitting with her during my breaks."
"She wouldn't leave me alone," Nayeon adds, her voice soft with memory. "Even when I tried to push her away."
"Especially then," Mina corrects, and there's such tenderness in her voice that Nayeon has to look away from Momo's face. "I knew she needed someone. I just didn't expect to need her too."
"And now look at you," Momo says, raising her glass. "Business partners and everything."
"Speaking of business," Mina interjects, straightening up. "Nayeonnie why don't you show Momoring those design plans for the new location? You know she has an eye for aesthetics."
Nayeon notices the way Mina's hand slips from hers, the subtle push in her voice. "The plans are just rough sketches right now..."
"Nonsense," Mina stands, already moving to get the portfolio from their office. "Momoring, you could even do a test shoot there. The lighting in the afternoon is perfect, right baby?"
"It would be," Nayeon agrees carefully, watching her wife's retreating back. When she turns back, she catches something flicker across Momo's face – recognition, perhaps, of what Mina is trying to do.
"The cafe's really grown," Momo says quietly. "You've built something beautiful together."
"We have," Nayeon replies, and they both know they're not just talking about the business. "Time has a way of... sorting things out."
Mina returns with the portfolio, settling it between them. "Look," she says, pulling out photos, "we kept that corner booth. The one where it all started." Her smile is radiant, but Nayeon notices how her hand trembles slightly as she spreads out the pictures.
"I really am sorry I missed the wedding," Momo says suddenly, pushing her food around the plate. "That campaign in Paris was..."
"Stop apologizing," Mina cuts in, reaching across to serve more rice to both Nayeon and Momo. "You're here now. Besides, someone needs to be the successful one in this family."
"Says the cafe empire queen," Momo snorts, but her eyes catch Nayeon's for a brief moment before darting away.
"Speaking of which," Mina says, her tone deliberately casual, "Nayeonnie, remember that shoot we talked about? For the new branch's promotion? Momoring would be perfect for it."
Nayeon's chopsticks pause midway to her mouth. "I thought we were going with local talents?"
"But who's more local than my sister?" Mina persists, and there's something in her voice that makes Nayeon look at her sharply.
The conversation shifts, but the moment lingers like perfume in still air. When Momo's manager texts that she's outside, there's almost a collective sigh of relief.
"I'll visit before I leave," Momo promises at the door, hugging Mina tight. When she turns to Nayeon, there's a heartbeat of hesitation before they embrace, brief and careful.
After Momo leaves, Nayeon and Mina move through their evening routine with practiced ease – Mina wiping down the table while Nayeon loads the dishwasher, their movements a well-choreographed dance they've perfected over the past year.
"Did you get your results today?" Nayeon asks, watching Mina from the corner of her eye. "And did Tzuyu fix that espresso machine?"
"Tzuyu's handling it," Mina says, avoiding the first question. She starts toward the stairs but stumbles slightly, her hand catching the railing.
Nayeon is by her side in an instant, steadying her. "Baby, you're sweating cold! What's wrong?"
"Just tired," Mina murmurs, leaning into her wife's warmth. "The expansion is taking a lot out of me."
"Go get a hot shower, I'll make some tea," Nayeon says, pressing a kiss to Mina's temple.
While waiting for the kettle to boil, Nayeon heads upstairs to grab their robes. As she opens their dresser drawer, a crumpled paper falls out. She picks it up, her heart suddenly heavy with an inexplicable dread.
Steam billows from the bathroom when Mina emerges, her skin flushed from the hot water. Nayeon sets aside the paper for a moment, moving naturally to help her wife dress. Her fingers brush against Mina's shoulders as she helps her into her silk robe, and Mina leans back into the touch with a soft sigh.
"Let me dry your hair," Nayeon murmurs, guiding Mina to sit at their vanity. Her fingers work through the damp strands with practiced gentleness, their eyes meeting in the mirror's reflection. The familiar intimacy of their nightly routine almost makes Nayeon forget the questions burning in her mind. Almost.
"Minari," she starts carefully, continuing to brush, "what was that about during dinner?"
"What was what about?" Mina's voice is soft, slightly muffled as she leans into Nayeon's touch.
"The whole thing with the cafe photoshoot. Pushing for Momo to be involved." Nayeon's hands pause briefly. "It's like you're trying to get us to spend more time together."
Mina's eyes flutter closed. "Is it wrong to want my wife and my sister to be close again? You were best friends once."
"We still are," Nayeon says, but the words feel hollow. "It's just... you've been different lately. Even before Momo arrived, you've been pushing for her to be more involved in our lives."
When Mina doesn't respond, Nayeon reaches for the crumpled paper she'd found earlier. "And why," her voice catches slightly, "are your lab results in the trash?"
Mina's eyes snap open, meeting Nayeon's in the mirror. For a moment, something like fear flickers across her face before she schools her expression.
"You weren't supposed to find those," she whispers.
"Mina," Nayeon's voice is firmer now, her hand stilling in Mina's hair, "what's going on? First tonight at dinner, and now this..." She holds up the crumpled paper. "I can't read all these medical terms, but something's not right. Why are you pushing so hard for Momo and me to—"
She stops abruptly, a terrible thought beginning to form.
Mina reaches up, her fingers wrapping gently around Nayeon's wrist, stilling the hand in her hair. Their eyes meet in the mirror, and there's a sad smile playing at the corners of Mina's mouth that makes Nayeon's heart stutter. The bathroom light catches the wedding ring on Mina's trembling finger, sending fractured rainbows across their reflection.
"I've always known," Mina whispers, her voice barely audible above the hum of their bedroom fan. "About the mysterious breakup. About how Momo looks at you when she thinks no one's watching. About how you look at her when you think I don't see." Her thumb traces circles on Nayeon's wrist, a gesture so achingly familiar it makes Nayeon's chest tight. "About how you both broke each other's hearts for my sake."
Nayeon feels the world tilt beneath her feet, her free hand gripping the vanity edge for support. "Mina, I—"
"Shh," Mina turns in her chair, facing Nayeon directly now. Her hands are trembling as they cup Nayeon's face, fingers cool against Nayeon's flushed skin. In the soft light, Nayeon notices for the first time how pale Mina has become, how the shadows under her eyes have deepened. "Let me finish. Please."
Tears are already gathering in Nayeon's eyes, but she nods, paralyzed by the gentle understanding in her wife's gaze. A drop of water from Mina's damp hair falls onto their joined hands, and Nayeon watches it trace a path between their fingers like a tear.
"Stage 4 pancreatic cancer," Mina says softly, like she's trying to cushion the words, like she's practiced this moment in her mind a thousand times. "It's aggressive. Three months, maybe four if we're lucky." Her thumb catches a tear as it falls down Nayeon's cheek, wiping it away with the same tenderness she's shown every day of their life together. "And I need you to listen to me very carefully, my love. I need you to understand why I've been trying to bring Momo closer."
"No," Nayeon chokes out, her knees buckling. She falls forward, her head landing in Mina's lap as sobs wrack her body. The silk of Mina's robe grows damp with her tears, and she can feel Mina's own body shaking with suppressed emotion. "No, no, no..."
Mina's fingers caressed through her hair, steady despite their trembling. "These past years with you... this one perfect year as your wife... they've been everything. You gave me everything, Nayeonnie. You loved me so completely that sometimes I could almost forget that your heart was split in two." Her voice catches. "Almost."
"I love you," Nayeon gasps into Mina's lap, her fingers clutching at the silk of her robe, breathing in the familiar scent of her body wash, trying to memorize everything about this moment even as she wants to deny it's happening. "I love you so much, please don't—"
"I know you do," Mina's voice breaks for the first time, her composure cracking like thin ice. A tear falls from her chin onto Nayeon's neck. "God, I know you do. But I also know it's always been her. And that's okay. It's okay because you still chose me, you still loved me, you still gave me the most beautiful memories anyone could ask for." Her hands continues to shake as they stroke Nayeon's hair. "You gave up your first love for me. Let me give you back that chance."
Nayeon lifts her head, her face tear-streaked and desperate. Her nose is red from crying, her eyes swollen, and Mina thinks she's never looked more beautiful. "Please don't talk like this. We'll fight this. We'll get other opinions, we'll—"
Mina presses her forehead against Nayeon's, their tears mingling. Their breath mingles in the space between them, warm and intimate, tasting of salt and sorrow. "I need to know you'll be happy after. I need to know you'll let yourself be happy. That you'll let yourself love again without guilt. Promise me." Her voice breaks on the last word, the carefully constructed calm finally shattering.
"How can you—" Nayeon's voice cracks. "How can you think about that now? How can you be so..."
"Selfless?" Mina lets out a watery laugh that sounds more like a sob. "I learned it from you. From watching you love me even when part of your heart belonged to someone else. From watching you choose my happiness over and over." Her hands frame Nayeon's face again, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "Let me do this for you. Let me make sure you're taken care of, the way you've always taken care of me."
Their hands find each other, fingers intertwining, both trembling now. The crumpled lab results lie forgotten on the floor, but their weight fills the room, making every breath feel like lead.
Two Months Later
The incense smoke curls upward in the quiet room, mixing with the sweet scent of chrysanthemums. Nayeon sits beside Momo in front of the altar, their shoulders barely touching. The familiar weight of her black mourning kimono feels like armor, keeping her from falling apart completely.
"Remember how she used to arrange the coffee cups?" Nayeon whispers, her voice rough from crying. "Everything had to be exactly forty-five degrees to the right."
Momo's hand finds hers in the dim light. "And how she'd scrunch her nose when something wasn't perfectly aligned?"
The memory hits Nayeon like a physical blow, and she curls into herself, a fresh wave of tears threatening to break free. Without hesitation, Momo pulls her closer, letting Nayeon bury her face in her shoulder.
*Two Weeks Earlier*
"Let go, my love," Mina had whispered, her hand cool against Nayeon's cheek. The hospital machines beeped steadily around them, marking time they didn't have. "We've tried everything. You've tried everything."
"I can't," Nayeon had choked out, climbing onto the narrow hospital bed to hold her wife. "Please don't ask me to."
"You're so stubborn," Mina's laugh had turned into a cough. When she caught her breath, she'd pressed her lips to Nayeon's temple. "Remember what you promised me? About being happy after?"
"Stop it," Nayeon had pleaded, breathing in the familiar scent of Mina's skin beneath the harsh hospital antiseptic. "Just stop."
They'd laid there in silence, listening to the rhythm of their shared breaths, until Mina spoke again. "Momo's flight lands tomorrow morning."
"She's coming as fast as she can."
"Good," Mina had murmured, her words starting to slur with exhaustion. "You'll need each other."
*Present*
The seventh day of the wake brings more visitors, more condolences, more incense. Nayeon watches through swollen eyes as people file past Mina's photograph, her wife's gentle smile frozen in time. The white chrysanthemums seem to glow in the temple's soft lighting.
"Sana and Jihyo just arrived," Momo murmurs, her arm still steady around Nayeon's shoulders. "Do you want to see them?"
Nayeon shakes her head, turning further into Momo's embrace. "Not yet. Just... a few more minutes?"
"Of course," Momo's voice catches. "Whatever you need."
They sit in silence, watching the smoke rise. Nayeon's mind drifts to the last few weeks – the parade of doctors, the experimental treatments, the hope that dwindled with each new allergic reaction. Through it all, Mina's smile never wavered, even when the pain medications stopped working.
She told me to let her go," Nayeon whispers into Momo's shoulder. "But I don't know how."
Momo's arms tighten around her. "She told me to take care of you," she admits, her own tears falling into Nayeon's hair. "In her last letter to me. She made me promise."
Nayeon pulls back slightly, meeting Momo's tear-filled eyes. There's something there, something they're both carefully avoiding, but now isn't the time. Now is for grief, for remembering Mina's laugh when she successfully created her first latte art, for missing the way she'd hum while doing inventory, for honoring the woman who loved them both enough to want their happiness even after she was gone.
"Tell me another memory," Nayeon pleads, settling back against Momo's shoulder. "Tell me about the time she tried to teach you to make coffee."
Momo's laugh is watery but genuine. "God, I was so bad at it. Remember how the milk exploded everywhere?"
"She didn't stop teasing you for weeks."
In the main hall, they can hear their parents speaking with relatives, the low murmur of voices discussing funeral arrangements, the rustle of traditional garments. But here, in this quiet corner of the temple, two women hold each other and remember the one who brought them together.
One Year Later
The morning sun streams through the cafe windows as Nayeon wipes down the counter, humming softly to herself. The radio plays quietly in the background – their usual morning playlist. When the opening notes of "One Sweet Day" drift through the speakers, Nayeon's hands still on the counter.
*Sorry I never told you all I wanted to say...*
The bell above the door chimes, and Momo enters, holding two letters – the final ones from the set they found in Mina's box months ago. Her eyes meet Nayeon's, and they share a soft smile as the song continues to play.
"Remember how Mom used to play this for Grandma?" Momo says softly, settling into what they still call 'Mina's booth.' "Mina would always cry."
"She was such a crybaby," Nayeon agrees fondly, making her way over with two cups of coffee – one black, one with vanilla, just like always. The familiar routine brings comfort now, where once it brought only pain.
They sit together, the morning sun warming their backs as they carefully open the final letters. Like the others before it, this one carries Mina's gentle spirit in every carefully penned word.
My dearest loves,
I'm writing this from my favorite spot in the cafe, watching the morning light paint patterns on the walls. I don't know when you'll read this – maybe in a month, maybe in a year. I hope by then the pain has softened a little, that you've both found ways to carry my memory without letting it weigh too heavily on your hearts.
You know what's playing right now? Our song, Momo – the one Grandma loved so much. Remember how we used to cry every time Mom played it at family gatherings? I can almost hear you teasing me about being emotional again. But you always cried too, even though you tried to hide it.
Nayeonnie, my love, I hope you're still taking care of our cafe. I hope you're still arranging the cups just the way I taught you (though knowing you, you've probably started putting them at random angles just to spite me). I hope you're letting our friends take care of you too.
I don't know what the future holds for either of you. I don't know if you're still sitting in our booth, if you still drink coffee the same way, if you've changed everything or kept it all the same. But I know your hearts, both of you. I know how much capacity for love you have.
Whatever path you choose, know that I lived a life full of love. You both gave me that gift – my sister and my wife, the two people who shaped my heart in different but equally precious ways. Don't let grief for me keep you from finding joy again, in whatever form that may take.
And darlings? If you're listening to this song when you read this, remember what Grandma always said – that love never really leaves us, it just changes form. Like the cherry blossoms that bloom every spring, like the sun that rises every morning, like the perfect cup of coffee that starts each day.
Al l my love,
Mina
P.S. Momoring, please don't let Nayeonnie rearrange the entire cafe. We both know her idea of organization is barely controlled chaos. And Nayeonnie, please don't let my sister anywhere near the espresso machine. Some disasters are better left in the past.
The song fades out just as they finish reading, and through their tears, they find themselves laughing at Mina's final teasing notes. Outside, cherry blossoms drift past the window, a few petals landing on the sill like tiny messages from above.
Momo's hand finds Nayeon's across the table, their fingers intertwining naturally. They're not ready for more, not yet. But for now, sitting in the warmth of the morning sun, with memories of Mina surrounding them in the subtle details she left behind – the precisely arranged cups, the family photos on the wall, the lingering scent of vanilla in the air – they feel her love like a gentle embrace.
Above them, the speakers continue to play their morning playlist, and somewhere, they both know, Mina is at peace, her love living on in the hearts of those she left behind.
And I know you're shining down on me from heaven
Like so many friends we've lost along the way
And I know eventually we'll be together
One sweet day...